


Four Times Jack and Brock Secretly Injured Themselves During Sex and One Time It Wasn't a Secret

by StarsGarters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blasphemy, Broken Bones, Coming Out, Concussions, Douchebros: A Love Story, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff and Crack, HYDRA Husbands, Humor, M/M, Medical Trauma, Poor Jesus, Pre-HYDRA Reveal, Shower Sex, dislocations, hot peppers, penile bleeding, sex injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/pseuds/StarsGarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the 'What was your worst sex injury' post on Jezebel.com. Blanket warnings for stupidity and inability to submit. What? You're surprised with these two?</p><p>Not in any AU or Canonical order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Jack and Brock Secretly Injured Themselves During Sex and One Time It Wasn't a Secret

The first time Jack Rollins and Brock Rumlow hurt themselves fucking around it was because of Mistress Tequila. Enough shots were thrown back to soften all the carefully reinforced walls of masculinity and deeply ingrained homophobia. Tequila was better than sodium pentathol for lubricating tongues and stomping down impulse control. 

Jack was very proud of his homemade salsa. _Suspiciously_ proud. "Burns going down and coming out. I call it, _The Devil's Butthole._ " He passed the bowl to Brock. "Try it with the pork rinds." Jack paused and leered, "Unless you're chicken." Then he started clucking like a hen.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo motherfucker." Brock loaded up a pork rind and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed while Jack stared at him in smug anticipation. It was fine salsa, savory and tasty for the first few seconds but then the _unholy_   _burn_ set in and Brock ran for the sink. He spat out the mouthful and sprayed water into his mouth directly from the hose attachment. It didn't help. 

"Trade you a handjob for this." Jack leaned against the counter, a full glass of cold milk in his fingers. 

Brock nodded and lunged for the glass of sweet cool relief. He would have traded his own grandmother for that milk. He swished it around in his mouth, gargled with it and drank the rest. "What the hell was in that?" It felt like steam was whistling out his ears.

Jack sat down on the couch and unzipped his fly. He pulled out his heavy, thick cock and crooked his finger over the back of the couch. "Secret recipe. Now come on over here and make good on your trade, pansy."

Brock wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He narrowed his eyes and stepped on the trash can pedal. He saw the remains of habeneros and other evil peppers. Brock glanced back to see if Jack was watching, he wasn't. Brock picked up a pepper bit and wiped it on his fingertips. He spat noisily in the trash and let the lid down.

"Pansy?" Brock slid next to Jack, "That's quaint." Brock suckled a wet, slick kiss at the junction of Jack's neck and chuckled at Jack's groan. He wrapped his pepper-tainted fingers around Jack's thick cock and pulled back the foreskin. He leaned over to suckle on the purple-tip but Jack halted him.

"No mouth action. I don't want pepper-dick."

Brock blinked innocently, while stroking the hot velvet skin with slow stripping strokes. It was wonderful to watch Jack squirm under his touch. It was even better when the _burn_ started to set in. Jack's eyes widened and he leapt off the couch, running as fast as his pants around his ankles would let him shuffle. The string of muffled curses was music to his ears. He sauntered over to the fridge.

Jack was sitting in the bathtub fully clothed, vigorously lathering up his crotch and rinsing with the shower attachment. "You tell anyone about this and you're a dead man." 

Brock leaned against the doorframe and took a swig from the carton of milk in his hand. "Want some milk?" Brock smirked and Jack flipped him off. 

Brock wasn't laughing later that evening when he took a piss and remembered far, far too late that he'd never washed his pepper-tainted fingers. 

Jack, on the other hand,  _howled._

* * *

 

The second time, Jack fell out of bed as he was jerking off on Brock's face. 

Jack dislocated his shoulder and had to brace himself against the doorframe to pop the joint back into place.

Brock got semen in his eye. He screamed like a girl and stuck his face under the faucet in the bathroom. The spunk was like oily shampoo and it took forever to rinse clean. He went to work the next day with what appeared to be the world's worst case of pinkeye. 

He refused to talk about it, Jack was stonefaced and rumors among the STRIKE team sparked. 

* * *

 

The third time, Brock stared at a pool of blood on his brand-new sheets and mattress. Panic rose in his gorge.

"What the fuck? Did you _tear me?_ " Brock scrambled off the bed and bent over in front of his closet mirror. He spread his asscheeks and tried to look inside his hole. He probed with a few fingers. A trickle of pink-tinted cum leaked out. There was blood there, but nothing really hurt. Well, nothing really hurt in a  _bad way_. The backs of his thighs were smeared red. 

Rollins sat back and examined his cock, "Well, that's one Scooby-Doo mystery solved." He applied pressure to the tiny rip where his foreskin had snagged. "Next time when I say  _buy more lube_ , fucking do it." Jack grumbled, "Fucking tight ass cheapskate."

The blood never really came out of the sheets, but damned if Brock was going to buy more. They were still perfectly good, even if Jack rolled his eyes every time he saw them. 

* * *

 

The fourth time, Brock was getting plowed against the tiled wall of Jack's shower. Jack's teeth worried at a scar on Brock's shoulder and Brock moaned wantonly, his voice echoed in the steamy hot spray.

"Oh you like that? You like getting fucked hard?" Jack asked, babbling and not expecting an answer. 

It was a perfect set of coincidences. Jack put his foot on the edge of the tub to thrust harder at the same time Brock opened his mouth and choked on the hot water spray. Brock sputtered and thrashed, Jack pulled out, _slipped_ and grabbed at the only thing he could. The shower curtain ripped from the rings as they both tumbled into the tub in a tangle of soapy limbs. 

The shower curtain rod popped loose from its mooring and hit Jack square in the face. "FUCK!" The crunch of his fractured nose was sickeningly loud and blood dripped down his face, swirling down the drain.  

Brock did the only thing he could. He turned off the shower and said with sheepish sincerity, "Well, at least it wasn't your dick." Jack punched him square in the face.

The next day, after witnessing Jack's busted nose and Brock's black eye, the STRIKE team set up a betting pool as to when Rumlow and Rollins would just admit to fucking each other. 

* * *

 

The whole team was lodged in a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere for a tracking and stealth training exercise. Everyone had to share rooms and no one batted an eye when Rumlow and Rollins bunked together. Someone was going to win the betting pool tonight, they just knew it. Murphy was convinced that tonight was his night to win. "This place just screams boredom and romance. Also, bad tv reception!" Mercer kicked him in the ankle.

The decor was cheap and unremarkable, aside from a giant wooden crucifix hanging over the headboard of the queen bed. Jack and Brock both stopped and stared at all the grotesque carved details. Jack reflexively crossed himself and Brock grinned, his lips pulled back over neat sharp teeth. "You afraid that weeping Jesus there is gonna see your dick? I'm sure he's seen more dicks than that. Running around with a bunch of dudes. Do you think the Apostles had circle jerk sessions?" Brock took off his boots.

Jack shook his head and crossed himself once more for good measure. "You're an asshole." He sat down on the foot of the bed, kicked off his boots and unzipped his bag. 

Brock walked up to him and shoved him in the shoulder. "You like it." He pushed Jack again, harder. "You love being all up inside me." He ground his crotch against Jack's thigh and sat down on his leg, riding it. Jack leaned back and watched appreciatively as Brock stripped off his shirt and sucked on his finger.

"Are you doing that for me or for Jesus up there?" Jack ran his fingers down Brock's chiseled chest and rolled a pebbled nipple between his fingertips.

Brock shivered. "Always wanted to have a threesome. Think the Son of God is into dudes?"

Jack tweaked Brock's nipple again, "I don't think I want to share."

"Mmm. Selfish." Brock stood up, dropped his pants and boxers to the floor. He crawled up to the headboard and pointed upwards. "Better get naked or Jesus gets me first." 

Jack stripped off his clothing and lunged for Brock. The headboard slammed against the wall. "He can wait his turn." Jack sucked a bruise into Brock's chest skin and scraped his teeth against it. "You're all mine. All mine." He pulled Brock's hips towards him and pushed his legs up in the air. He buried his face in Brock's tender hole, licked and laved his tongue until Brock was sloppy and begging.

"Please! Please Jack! I neeeeeed you." Brock moaned and wriggled his ass enticingly. 

"I'm not having a repeat of the torn foreskin maneuver. You can wait for some slick, you little cock-hungry whore." He crawled off the bed and dug for the lube in his bag. "Always be prepared." He slicked himself up with a few easy strokes and crawled up the bed back to his lover. Lover, yeah. That kinda worked. They weren't serious or anything like that. Not as serious as Jack wanted to be. Boyfriend implied a relationship. Fuckbuddies was too crass. 

"Okay Boy Scout, cram that dick up my ass right now!" Brock commanded in impatience. Maybe  _crass_ was more their style. Jack breached the tight, hungry ring and Brock shuddered. "Harder! Harder! HARDER!" Brock shouted and Jack slammed his hips, over and over. The headboard slammed against the wall with thumps. Jack wrapped a fist around Brock's dick, thrust as hard as he could and watched in horror as the crucifix fell off the wall and hit Brock on the head. 

Brock went limp beneath him, bleeding profusely from a gash on his scalp. Jack grabbed a towel and pressed against the wound. He grabbed his phone and dialed emergency services. When the bleeding was staunched, Jack threw on his pants and wriggled Brock's boxers up his hips. He opened the door for the firemen who were as always far too attractive for any other profession. The rest of STRIKE huddled about the doorway just in time to hear, "So, um, we were fucking and Jesus fell off the wall and hit him on the head. Yeah, he's my boyfriend." 

"Pay up!" Murphy said and dodged Mercer's sharp elbow. They watched the paramedics transport Jack and Brock to the hospital. Murphy smiled at the fat stack of cash in his hand. 

* * *

 

Brock opened his crusty eyes. There were so many balloons in the room that one kept hitting Jack in the head as he sat beside Brock's bed. They were all puffy rainbows or variations on the rainbow theme that screamed GET WELL and CONGRATULATIONS at him. "What the fuck is this?"

Jack rubbed his thumb over the back of Brock's hand. "Murphy won the betting pool."

"Damnit Murphy..." Brock licked his lips, "So everyone knows, huh?"

Jack nodded. "I might have called you my boyfriend. And I think we're the talk of the whole town tonight. Jesus attacked the wicked sodomites."

"See, that's what happens when you make Jesus have sloppy seconds." Brock closed his eyes. "Fucking Jesus." Jack smiled and crossed himself, as Brock drifted off. "Never had a boyfriend before... Isss nice."

Jack settled back in his chair and thumbed through his phone. He took a moment to change his social media profiles to ' _In a Relationship'_ from ' _It's Complicated_." And then he made plans to go to Confession and maybe even Mass for the first time in a decade.

Sometimes, you just couldn't ignore all the signs. 

 


End file.
